The Irish standard., 1887-09-17

|
wished he had come armed with a bet
ter weapon than the stout walking
stick
The man who was digging stopped fo1
moment and said:
Which of ye has the black-handle
knife:'
I have replied the man who was
standing, in grutf voice.
Il feel myself getting some way ner-
vous, says the voice from the ground,
and I'd like you'd make sure, for fea1
OF danger
There's no danger replied the grnff
voice again; II did the business right.
So go on and be ID
The man on one knee started up, and
clapped his hand on the mouth of him
with the gruff voice.
Let him alone,' says this man, in a
low, plaintiye voice, or he'll spoil all.
I told you he would, and he will
sHould your tongue, you angishore,
growled the gruf one, and give us
none Of your jaw Here Brian could
see this person throw back his head and
elevate his!elbow, and an odor of whis-
key became very perceptible immedi-
ately. The digging and shoveling went
on again in silence for some minutes.
Would / doubt you, Betty?' the man
| in the ground exclaimed triumphantly.
what is it?' asked the man with the
plaintlve voice,
"A cave was the reply. I have a
cave. The spade is after running into
| it,
AT this moment hollow, and even.
Brian thought, an unearthly sound, is
sued from the river, quite close to the
group.
Pm ID if it isn't the Devil ex-
claimed the gruff voice.
There now,' says the other SORROW
fully, and in the same low, plaintive
tone. There now, all is lost. And
didn't tell you this'd be at the end Of
it?
Josh, says the man below, Josh, are
you able to say the 'Deprafundish?'
No WAS the reply; I never commit
ted it to memory
There's no use,' says the other, in
asking that unfortunate man.
What do you name, blast you?' says
the gruff one.
But, at any rate, maybe ye could
manage few words of the Prayers for
sowl departin'.'
This was said in a faint, gasping way.
'D--n it, man. growlea the gruT one
try drop Of this. And STOPPING down
he appeared to hold q bottle to the
mouth of the man below.
'Tis rewivin',' says he, evidently af-
ter a long pull at the bottle, 'Tis
rewiyin',' and now if wan of ye had the
sLitany for the Dyin' ia be able to
answer i'd
Here the hollow noise from the river
was repeated. The gruf voice swore
again that it was bis sable majesty and
no mistake.
There now, there is more of it, says
the man OH one knee plaint1vely. And
now we may as we'll give it up. Give
me your hand, Tim
'Josh, there's no use. I'm dead man
from the hips down.
None o. your blasted humbug,' says
The g1uff voice.
GOOD luck TO YOU, an let me die like
a Christian family implored the m n
below the surface. Like q Christian
he repeatet1--'an' give US another dhrop
o that
Now, Che name Tim addressed to
the last speaker, was ray Of light to
Brian Purcell. He began to have a
faint glimmering of the real state of
things. And he had not long to wait
for the full clearing up Of che mystery.
In order. however, that it may be
equally clear to the reader, we must go
back couple Of hours, and change the
scene to Tim Croak's habitation among
the furze
4 dry tagot blazed and cracked
pleasantly upon the hearth. Tim's
wife, Betty, sat upon straw BOSS knit
ting, occasionally stopping to listen for
her husbands football coming up the
glen. The door opens and Tim Croak
enters He places his long waffle over
the fireplace, and pulls off his coat.
Tim never wears his coat inside doors,
and generally carries it upon his arm
outside.
Come. Betty placing a sugan-bot.
tom chair in front OF the fire, have you
eer little rouser for us tonight: Sit
down, JOSH The invitation to sit
down was addressed to mild-looking
little man in a worn dress coat and light
colored trousers Of dubious hue and
material; but who was chiefly remark
able for being the possessor Of the
most wonderful white hat ever seen.
The proprietor of this unique article
was never known to possess another.
It was an old hat which it would be inn
possible to imagine new one at any